


jyn erso and the farmboy

by ArmedWithAStaringFly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Crack Pairing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Rogue One, Rey Skywalker, Skymom, Speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6927382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArmedWithAStaringFly/pseuds/ArmedWithAStaringFly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jyn Erso first met Luke Skywalker, Hero Who Shot Down the Deathstar, she couldn't help but be annoyed by him. Still reeling from the trauma she'd experienced at the hands of the Empire, all she could think about was what this inexperienced teenager with delusions of Force powers was doing on the mission she nearly died for. But there may be more to this boy than what meets the eye, and time has a way of changing things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First started on Tumblr before this pairing was *sniff* basically shut down. Definitely speculative. I'm just assuming (for now) that almost all of the characters lived...probably incorrectly, honestly.

Jyn came to in the hospital wing, head spinning and eyesight blurry until she blinked the confusion away.

“Those bastards…” she whispered as she felt the cotton beneath her hands and lifted herself from her place. She hated sleeping meds. She hated the vulnerability of not being able to wake up, even if there was no one around to hurt her. She hated the grogginess. She hated that she needed them so often these days, because she was restless and anxious and could not lie down like her doctor said her recovery needed. 

Jyn rubbed her eyes once more to compel herself to wake up. Then, she stopped, and listened.

The hospital wing was too quiet. Usually in the halls there were droids whirring about, people bustling, chatter from visitors. But with the exception of the droids and the few caretakers’ footsteps, it was silent. It wasn’t like that unless they needed personnel in another part of the building.

Like following a battle.

She shot up with a start, running to the doorway and flagging down the nearest hospital droid.

“Where is everyone?” Jyn asked in a gasp.

“Caring for the survivors of the destruction of the Death Star.”

“The _what?”_

* * *

“You expect me to believe that some rookie teenager shot down the Death Star single-handedly? That’s absurd.”

“He used the Force to aim at the vent,” General Willard told her without missing a beat. 

“The Force?” Jyn huffed, crossing her arms and looking back at Princess Leia, standing and laughing with some other man in Corellian stripes that she didn’t recognize, but instantly didn’t trust. “is that what they’re calling dumb beginner’s luck these days?”

“ _Well then_ , what did he do to you?” 

“ _He_ didn’t do anything to me. _You_ let me stay under sleeping meds while handing off the plan to shoot down the Death Star to some _child_ you barely know, like they were nothing, like my team didn’t risk their lives and suffer tremendously to–”

“He is not a child, he is nineteen, a full year past the minimum age and only five years younger than you–”

She scoffed self-conciously, “Could have fooled me. He could pass for–”

“ _Jyn,”_ he snapped, harsher than she’d ever heard him and she tried to pretend she didn’t flinch at his words, “We did not hand off your plans to Luke Skywalker. We handed them off to a team of X-Wing pilots, some of them having been with us for _years,_ and he was not only the one to hit the target, but _one of only two to_ _make it back.”_

She opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out.

“Look,” he sighed, leaning closer to her and taking her hands as she instinctively looked away, “I know you wanted to lead this mission, as vengeance of sorts. But you still aren’t recovered enough…both physically and mentally. And we couldn’t wait for you.”

Jyn kept her eyes trained on the ground. The chorus of celebration behind her rang on, but she couldn’t find comfort in it. “You still aren’t doing him any good by letting him keep his delusions of the Force,” she said quietly.

“You don’t believe in it?” She spun around to find herself face to face with wide blue eyes and a soft questioning face. Blonde hair, falling into his eyes like a kid’s. 

“Jyn, I’d like you to meet Luke Skywalker, the destroyer of the Death Star,” Willard said pointedly.

It almost startled her. He was too innocent looking for his own good, that’s for sure. She almost wished he looked more like an asshole.   

“You’d do well not to depend on superstition in the future, or this glory won’t last.” Jyn didn’t mind how snide she sounded. She rather enjoyed the way his brow furrowed. She laughed internally at how silly that looked, because that face couldn’t be threatening if it tried.

She dismissed the voice in her head reminding her that that nonthreatening face had just taken down the most fearsome weapon in all the galaxy on his first flight.

She walked away tall and proud before he could respond. She knew he was watching her, and she loved it, even after Willard sighed loudly and apologized to the _war hero_. And the next day when the rebels had gathered in the mess hall for dinner, she saw Skywalker sitting on the farthest corner of the room. He was staring at Princess Leia with a stupid smile on his babyface, even as she was clearly wrapped up in intense verbal sparring with the Correlian. Jyn rolled her eyes and returned to her food. _Teenagers_.

But when she glanced up again, she saw those icy eyes fixed on her.

She didn’t turn away in insecurity. She didn’t mentally scold herself for doing something so silly, so weak. She turned back, ready to face him, but he was ogling Leia again. She wasn’t disappointed, she was relieved, because attention from a farmboy was the last thing she needed. Especially a farmboy without a firm grasp on reality. He was probably just mad that someone wasn’t fawning over him, two if you count Leia, which probably was frustrating him to no end, and those eyes were unnervingly blue even from all the way across the room…

 _This rebellion is doomed_ , Jyn thought bitterly, and dug her fork into her dinner like it itself had wronged her.

* * *

She flagged down Wedge a few hours later. The only other pilot to make it back, and the actually experienced one at that.

“I get that Skywalker shot down the Death Star. But _why_ did they let him on this mission?” Jyn tried to keep her wavering voice under control, but she could tell by his tightly pressed lips that he saw her anger. “I looked into his records. He has no experience with an X-Wing, none. Not even concrete piloting experience. He could have been a disaster.”

“But…he wasn’t,” Wedge said curtly. “Look, I had my reservations about it all too. Kid told me something about womprats when we were getting the plans; he’s from the middle of nowhere. But he delivered when it counted, and Biggs vouched for him. They were friends on Tatooine, apparently. Biggs said we wouldn’t find a better pilot in the galaxy and they decided to believe him when we’re this short.”

“Biggs is…?”

“Yes.”

Jyn nodded, still biting her lip in frustration. This is a war, she told herself. People die. “Maybe he was biased by his friendship–”

“Leia Organa spoke for him too. He helped save her from the Death Star. You really think Leia Organa would put this mission in jeopardy for personal reasons? The thing blew up her planet, Jyn.”

Jyn gasped. “Alderaan is gone?”

“Wow, you were out in the hospital for a while.”

Yes, she was. She was out for days, kept out of the action, like she’d served her purpose and was ready to be thrown out. Like she’d felt every other day of her life.

 _They were letting you heal,_ a voice in her head told her. _They were letting you recover_ instead _of treating you like canon fodder_.

She still couldn’t believe it.

Wedge sighed, running a hand through his hair and lowering his voice. “Jyn, people are saying you’re angry that you’re not getting this glory.”

“What?” she snapped, nearly making him jump. She couldn’t help it. She almost felt like crying in frustration, did people really think so low of her? Did people really have such little respect for what she went through because of that damned space station to not understand why she’d wanted to see this to the end? Why she didn’t understand why they just threw together a team of whatever they could find like this wasn’t important?

“I know it isn’t true, and so do a lot of people. I’m not sure why you hate Skywalker so much–”

Jyn clenched her jaw. “He has no experience or business being on that mission.”

“Yeah, you said. But you need to let it go.”

He thumped her shoulder with an apologetic shrug, and left her in the hallway.

* * *

The next time she saw him, he was surrounded by young women and soaking in their attention with an embarrassed smile so fake it could of been a mask tied on his face.

Jyn rolled her eyes again, not sure if she was more annoyed at those otherwise respectable female soldiers actually falling for that bantha shit or the rest of the Rebels for being charmed by that boy.

“Well, my father was one of the last Jedi…”

She almost burst into laughter. Of _course_ he was. _Even if that’s true,_ she thought, almost whispered under her breath, _My father designed that Death Star that you shot down with_ the Force _. I lived my life fighting, got those plans that brought you here by the skin of my teeth and pain you can’t know. Some of us don’t get to ride on legacies, we have to earn respect and trust from way on the other side._

“He fought in the Clone Wars…”

She couldn’t take it anymore. With a groan that was perhaps a little too audible, she slammed the door to the hall behind her.

* * *

Talking to her team, or what remained, was the only way Jyn felt truly comfortable in those days, in between endless droning hospital visits and psychiatric sessions.

“They’re sending me out again,” Baze said as he casually cleaned his gun, his long black hair tied away from his face.

“I wish they would send me out rather than keep me cooped up here.” 

“I know,” he leaned back and pointed his gun at the wall, making a mock shoot but being careful not to touch the trigger. “They say I’m ready to go back in the field. I thought I was ready months ago. They can’t keep wasting good soldiers like you and me, letting us rot on base. We can’t afford it.”

“They’d think we’re insane, wanting so badly to go back into battle.” A hint of a bitter smile crossed her face. 

“Maybe they’d be right.” Baze ran a hand over his haggard face. “I’m serving under Skywalker, which at least should be interesting.” 

“Give me a break…” Jyn shot him an exaggerated disbelieving look, more amused than anything, “they’re putting people like you _under_ Skywalker? Already?”

“He blew up the Death Star.”

“So I heard.”

“Did you hear he did it without a targeting computer?”

She frowned. No, she hadn’t. “That’s impossible. The target would’ve been too small.”

He shrugged, as if he’d once disbelieved himself, “If you’d told me that a year ago I’d have laughed at you…but now I’m not sure. They say he’s Force sensitive, that he’s on his way to be a new Jedi.” Baze stared off into space, shaking his head in amazement.

“Or he’s an incredible shot,” she admitted. Easier than admitting that Skywalker has the Force. 

“Or both.”

Jyn groaned, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. “Let’s stop talking about it.”

“What’s your problem with him, anyway?” Jyn groaned louder, laying her arm over her face.

“He’s smug. And whiny.”

“Jyn?”

“Hm?”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever heard say that. Everyone else is saying that he’s quite humble, and goes out of his way to share the glory.”

She didn’t respond. So he continued.

“I know you wanted to lead that mission. I wanted to too. But that’s no reason to take it out on a good man.”

“Psh.” She pushed herself up from her seat and grabbed a blaster from the wall, absent mindedly cleaning it with her teammate’s rags. “Man. He’s only–”

“Older than a lot of soldiers in this rebellion. And a hero. And possibly a damn Jedi. And unless you’ve forgotten…” he pulled the blaster from her hands, and she sent him a mock pout, “A superior officer to _both_ of us. So if you know what’s good for you, you’d watch your mouth, or you might not see battle again period.”

Jyn sighed in defeat and nodded, still unwilling to let go of her pout. “Fine.”

* * *

Jyn lay awake in bed that night, staring at the slowly circulating fan on the ceiling. She craved sleep, but it refused to grace her, and she almost wished she had more of those sleeping pills.

She could still hear the echoes of blasters, heavy footsteps, and her team’s screams on the Death Star. Still taste the blood in her mouth. Still hear the words from the man in white, and the other one in black.

She covered her eyes with her hands. Suddenly, Skywalker’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. And to her surprise, she felt not annoyance but guilt.

She knew why she wasn’t on that mission. She just didn’t want to face it. Hating him was just simpler. And it wasn’t like she steadfastly didn’t believe in the Force or the Jedi; she’d just seen too much to really accept that there was any sort of mystical hoohaa there to make their lives easier. She’d heard the same legends as everyone else. It just all seemed too distant now.

Damn the nighttime for making her actually analyze her thoughts and feelings.

* * *

She tried to look away if she saw him passing in a large group. She never spoke if he entered the corner of her field of vision when walking a hallway. She never acknowledged when his stare met her again.

It was easier to not think about him that way.

* * *

Jyn respected Princess Leia Organa, but she never talked to her much. Neither of them were one to socialize, and Jyn liked it that way. She didn’t have the time or energy to worry about making friends. So she admired the Princess from a comfortable distance, occasionally sharing an exasperated look with her from across the room when the rebellion men were simply being _too much_.

But then one day Leia Organa sat next to her in the mess hall. Jyn watched dumbfounded as she set her food down, face red and jaw clenched, hands in fists as if ready to throw a punch any moment.

“Don’t mind me. I’m avoiding _someone…_ ” Leia started to saw through her meat ration a little too passionately. “And this was the only spot open.” Jyn took a glance around the room. She was right. Jyn usually sat alone, anyway. She didn’t mind. She wasn’t always good with people. 

“Be my guest,” Jyn said, moving her tray to give her more room. “Anything…” She didn’t know what to say. She thought women were supposed to be good at comforting each other, but that trait seemed to miss her, “…bothering you?”

“Just a self-absorbed, smug, half-witted ‘war hero’ who needs to knocked down from the pedestal he has so kindly hoisted himself upon,” the princess growled. 

“Skywalker?” Jyn asked before she thought, because old habits die slowly. And she instantly regretted that habit when Leia looked at her like she had just grown a gungan head on her shoulder.

“No, of course not!” Leia went back at her meal far more gently. “Luke is very kind to me, like he is to everyone. It’s Han, the nerf-herder.”

Jyn slumped slightly. That made a lot more sense. Even Jyn knew that many on base had been talking about Han Solo and the Princess. Some were surprised they were even friends. Others gave those people knowing looks and said to _just wait_.

“I shouldn’t be complaining about a general around the troops but…nevermind. Oh, Luke!”

“What about him?” Jyn half-moaned. Only to realize that Leia was not mentioning but greeting that very person, running up to them with a look of pure exasperation. “Speak of the Sith,” Jyn mumbled. She ignored the irony of her use of that little idiom.

“Han apologizes for what he said, Leia.” He plopped himself down in the seat right in front of her. Jyn hadn’t been this close to him in weeks, and she couldn’t do much but fix her eyes on the table past her arm, or down the room behind him, or over a the nearest door… “He won’t do it again!”

“That is a bold faced lie, Luke Skywalker,” Leia stated plainly. “He said no such thing.”

“Yeah, but it was worth a shot…” Luke shrugged, leaning on the table and making himself more comfortable in that seat  than Jyn was comfortable with. “I’m sorry, but you two are exhausting sometimes.”

“Then tell Han to drop that attitude of his. I’m exhausted by _it_.”

“Leia, I feel like–oh.” It was then that he noticed Jyn, sitting still and tense across from him. “Hello…” She expected to see anger, maybe. Defensiveness. Distaste. She looked at his face and saw only uncertainty.

_Can you do me a favor and stop looking so damn innocent? I have a grudge to maintain._

“Hello, Commander Skywalker. Nice to see you well.” A trained phrase. Meaningless.

He smiled. She had to admit, it was an objectively aesthetically pleasing smile. She understood why young women liked it. “The feeling is mutual!” he said with far too much earnest. “Jyn, is it?”

“Yes.” She smiled back. Just slightly. Just enough to be polite. “Thank you, Commander Skywalker.”

“Oh. You can call me Luke. I have to admit, I’m not quite used to Commander Skywalker, and I’m really not ready to be called that casually.”

Jyn simply nodded. Under the table, she found herself lacing her fingers, even more tense than before.

Leia, damn her, finished her food and started groaning about having to back to work with _him,_ scooping up her things and leaving her flat alone with the boy she’d spent the better part of a month degrading and hating for decreasingly sensible reasons.

“Jyn…” Luke said softly, scooting closer to her. Jyn instinctively leaned back, and he noticed, because of course he did, and was accommodating and returned to his original position, because of course he was. She wanted to believe it was all an act. It was becoming increasingly difficult to convince herself. “I know you have issues with me, and disagree with me when it comes to the Force.”

 _This oughta be good,_ Jyn thought, smirking in her mind at least.

“But I want you to know that I heard of your valiant efforts to secure the plans for the Death Star, and what you sacrificed. And I want to thank you, because without that we would never have been able to take it down. You’re as much a hero as I am.”

 _Damn him,_ she thought as her internal smirk fell _._

 _“_ Thank you, sir,” she said blankly. He still looked about sixteen, she told herself, and they were wrong to put him in that position when it was a risk to more experienced pilots. 

“Luke,” he corrected, and he stood and left. 

* * *

Most of the Rebels on base were sent to Hoth. She wasn’t. Fine by her. An ice planet sounded downright awful, and she’d heard rumors that they were giving her a higher position on the secondary base.

(She was thankful that her sour attitude towards the Rebellion’s Favorite Son didn’t kill her advancement)

Jyn sat in the middle of her bunker, case opened on the floor without any belongings placed in it. Not like she had that many, anyway.

But her life had turned around on this base, and though she was not a sentimental person, she couldn’t help but feel a little lost. They were keeping what was left of her team together, she was promised. That relieved her more than she let on.

Her belt hung on the bedpost, blaster nestled in its holster. She picked it up, made sure the safety was on, and placed it in her case. It was scratched and worn, blasted at and slammed against Stormtrooper helmets. On a mission that still weighed down on her.

The cursed weapon was gone. She wished she could just take _comfort_ in that fact. The resentment, the annoyance, it had just gotten _tiring_. But no matter what, she couldn’t move on.

_What if I never will?_

Then a knock on the door sounded.

She lifted herself off the ground and opened the door, immediately cursing herself for not checking the camera outside first.

Blue eyes. Blonde hair. A tentative and sickeningly sweet smile. “Hello, Jyn.”

 _Close it in his face; you can’t do this right now. “_ Hello, Commander Skywalker.”

“Luke. May I come in?” He glanced around the room nervously. She couldn’t imagine why. 

“Yes,” she said against her better judgement. But she might as well get this over with. His eyes widened, as if that was the last thing he’d expected. She moved and he stepped inside, gripping his yellow jacket as if a lower officer with a petty grudge had any reason to make him feel vulnerable. She pulled out two chairs and they sat, her slumped and tired and him a little stiff.

“Jyn, I’m about to go to Hoth, and I just feel like…” he motioned his head unconsciously, like he was looking for the right wording. “…for some reason we never got to know each other well, for the two people everyone most credits with the destruction of the Death Star.”

She almost laughed. He may trying to be a diplomat, but he was not a good liar. “Cut the crap, Skywalker. You know why.”

He relaxed a bit and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah…I know. I just don’t know why you…”

“You never did anything to me,” she blurted suddenly, and quickly found that she simply didn’t have the energy to stop. “And I don’t want your glory. I’m just a screwed-up loner who wanted revenge and can’t let the whole thing go. Which, honestly, would probably make me happier but–” she quirked her head, “I’ve also never been very good at that either.”

Skywalker looked stunned.

“And frankly, I’m a little unsure of why you don’t just let _me_ go. My opinion is of no consequence to you. Don’t try to be selfless and fix anything. Just go off and be a war hero, you…” she sighed and shrugged. “You deserve it.”

“Jyn, I can assure you that what I’m doing right now is honestly really selfish.”

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not going to let you go because I _want_ you to like me.” He chuckled, looking more self-conscious than ever and it was almost downright surreal. “What you did…it was incredible. What I said a few weeks ago was totally honest. I may have blown up the Death Star, but even the Force couldn’t have helped me if we didn’t have your plans. Leia and Wedge told me everything you went through, and you need to have more credit and glory…it was…it was just _amazing_.” He looked at her like he had just met his hero for the first time, with open awe. “I think it bothers me more than you that you don’t like me.”

 _Definitely not true._ “I…I’m honored, Commander Skywalker.”

“I promise,” He gave a cheeky grin she hadn’t previously realized he was capable of, “I’m here for my own benefit. I admit that.”

She bit her lip, flicking her eyes between his expectant face and her fists on her lap. “And how do you plan to turn my opinion of you around?”

“Can I hear the story from you? I’m sure Leia and Wedge don’t know everything.”

She glanced at her blaster across the room. No, they didn’t. “I’d first rather hear something about you.”

“What?”

_How exactly you managed to shoot down the Death Star without a targeting computer? It just can’t be…_

“How exactly are you the son of a Jedi if the stories say they were allowed no attachments and were essentially celibate?”

She expected stuttering, dismissal, waving away the question because it had poked through his story. She did not expect a widened, even cheekier expression and a smirk. “You’ve been around enough to know that _someone_ was bound to cheat on a rule like that.”

She found herself laughing out loud. “Honestly…that’s a good point.” So she swerved, and went back to the question that was really on her mind. Shooting the Death Star. 

He gave her a quizzical look, but complied, and launched into a story she still didn’t know if she believed. And so they talked. Him more than her, but she didn’t mind. She still refused to call him Luke like he insisted–eventually he gave up and stopped commenting on it. She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but eventually he stood, apologetically saying that he best go back to his own room because he had to leave in the morning. He dropped his hand on her shoulder as he walked away, but cautiously, like he wasn’t sure how far he could go. 

She watched him walk out the door, and then the room was deathly quiet. It usually was, but now she was far more aware of it. 

Jyn found herself mindlessly staring at his empty chair. She wondered if she missed his presence or simply the presence of another. She preferred to believe the latter.

But all that socializing had left her rather exhausted, as it always does, and she threw a few more items in her case before flopping back on her bed.

 _He’s a handsome farmboy, I’ll give him that_ , she thought before falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

People still talked about him. Even more so, in fact. Sometimes she felt like she couldn’t walk through the halls of her base without hearing his name. He continued to accomplish amazing feats on the battle field armed only with an ancient weapon. And even the most skeptical people she knew were, one by one, calling him a Jedi. 

She asked Cassian why he believed it now. Not too long ago he’d been on her side, thinking he was a charming enough boy but his ideas of the Force were going to get him killed one day. He told her that when he was sent to Hoth for a few weeks, he saw Commander Skywalker, blinded by darkness and snow, stopped six blast shots that he could not possibly have seen. 

“Right out of the sky. One even came from behind him and he blocked it with that lightsaber of his. I can’t explain it. But it wasn’t luck. This is real, Jyn.” Cassian took her shoulder. “And this could change the war.”

Somewhere in there, deep down, she finally accepted the truth. She just refused to acknowledge it. 

* * *

Luke Skywalker never left her life. But after two, three, four years, he became like a ghost, a legend, spoken of in awe but never seen. And she was OK with that, even if the lanky farmboy of her memories never fit into the stories.

Taking down an ATAT single-handedly after his ship was brought down, with only his lightsaber on hand. Returning from a one-on-one battle with Darth Vader, missing one quickly-replaced hand but otherwise intact. Impossible feats, but he’d begun this war with something equally impossible. 

And as the years passed, Jyn found it harder and harder to connect the rumors with the boy who had talked with her in her old room. So she stopped trying. Luke Skywalker was a distant myth. That’s all he needed to be to her, anyway. 

* * *

When one is fighting a war, you live wishing for the day when you hear that it has come to an end. You just never really think it will.

So when the troops were rallied to the center of base, no amount of trained composure would restrain them when they heard the Empire had fallen. 

Jyn rarely cried. But tears streamed down her face as she threw her arms around her remaining teammates, because everything, _everything_  had finally paid off. Baze lifted her and spun her around in the air, and she didn’t even have the heart to tell him to put her down. She just laughed in exhilaration, throwing her fist in the air. 

Little by little, information on just how the victory they were celebrating had been won reached her and the troops. The stories were as incredible as she expected. General Solo and Organa on the ground, taking down Stormtroopers with a species as primitive as the Ewoks. Lando Calrissian and the fleet shooting down the second Death Star. And Luke Skywalker somehow taking down the Emporer without a weapon, because he didn’t have enough to brag about already. Some said that Darth Vader had turned and helped him, but that was where Jyn drew the line. She knew Skywalker was amazing, but that cold, mechanical voice she sometimes still heard in her dreams could never turn to the light. She’d rather give Skywalker all the credit.

* * *

“Luke Skywalker is coming,” her commanding officer had said with a touch of nervousness and reverence on his voice. 

“Really?”Jyn grinned, still sipping her victory liquor and too high on the celebrations engulfing her to even consider what that implied. She was quick to return to her team, dancing to the hard drumming and drunken hugs being flung in all directions. It was over. It was finally over. It had been for nearly a month, in fact. The parties went on, because people almost didn’t want to return to life, because what even _was_ life without the war?

But regardless, the war was over. And he was a large reason why. And he was coming. 

The men sometimes teased Jyn, telling her that she’d have to keep in her rage at his stupid face now, because he’s a war hero many times over. 

“He’s, what, twenty-three now? You can’t even call him a teenager anymore,” Cassian chuckled. “What will you do?”

Jyn scoffed at him and shrugged. “Just keep my mouth shut, I guess.” Though she didn’t know why, self-consciousness washed over her. 

“Even so,” she quickly added, “I hope his arrival doesn’t cause too much distraction. We’ve had enough of that lately and we need to get to work. But it probably will, because everyone is going to fawn over him.” She rolled her eyes. 

Baze, who had talked with her about Skywalker in the weapons hold so many years ago, grunted and shook his head.

* * *

Suddenly, she realized she had no idea what she really thought of him. How was she going to greet him? Were they friends? Acquaintances? Friendly rivals? She hadn’t considered it because she never thought she’d need to know.

So she was a little too relieved when she heard that he had suddenly canceled, and she could go back to avoiding the thought.

“He said his sister is pregnant,” her commanding officer told her.

“His what!?” she exclaimed. “Who’s his sister?”

“Did you meet Princess Leia Organa?” 

“Yes. What about her?”

“She’s his sister.”

For a moment, Jyn’s brain short-circuited, until she mustered enough thought to sputter a response. “Since _when_?”

“Since they were born, given that they’re twins. They found out near the end of the war.”

Jyn blinked twice, looking to the distance with a blank expression. Memories of three years prior resurfaced as realizations dawned on realizations. She had mocked Skywalker for his age when Princess Leia was the exact same–she had no idea she was so young. Skywalker had somehow happened to run into his own sister on the Death Star–another feat that sounded far too caused by the Force for Jyn’s liking. 

_Skywalker had fancied his own sister._

She shook her head. “That family is so screwed up.”

Her officer suddenly raised an eyebrow, a show of “I do not approve of that statement.” But she could tell he agreed. 

“The name Skywalker sure does come with a lot of baggage, it seems,” he said.

Jyn nodded. “Wouldn’t wish it on anyone, really.”

* * *

Over the months, rumors of that family continued to buzz across the troops. Leia and Han’s pregnancy was accidental, people said. And this wasn’t any accidental pregnancy, but an accidental pregnancy of a Force sensitive in the most powerful lineage in the known galaxy, and therefore the Skywalkers and Solos had some plans to figure out. 

“Take this as a lesson, boys,” Baze told a band of troops one night while leaning back with a pipe, “A great victory is a time for celebration, but not too much celebration, or there’ll be great consequences.”

“All due respect, sir, our accidents probably won’t have potentially universe-changing results,” one soldier pointed out. 

“One ill-timed roll in the hay for winning a war,” another soldier mused, “and they end up with some ultra powerful magic kid. Damn.”

Not much longer after, people were saying Han and Leia were engaged. Jyn never knew Leia that well, but she still felt obligated to send congratulations. 

_Thank very much!_ Her returning message had said. _Han and I had expected this to happen anyway, but as I’m sure you heard, the process got sped up a bit._

To think she’d once sat down next to Jyn for the purpose of avoiding him.

* * *

One day, four years after she had last seen him, she decided that she was proud of the boy, when she thought of it. Yes, she was wrong about him. He was good-natured, and had saved them all. Just a simple farmboy, turned the Savior of the Rebellion. A inspiring story for the books, at the very least, and if that boy had been so humble after the Battle of Yavin, she couldn’t imagine he’d changed too much over the years.

He was finally coming to visit their base. She had to figure out her opinion of the boy, figure out how she’d react after not considering it for so long. She was excited to see him, honestly. They may never really be friends, but she’d like to congratulate him anyway. 

She didn’t know what she was expecting when he came into her view. Actually, she did know. A lean, floppy haired teenaged farmboy dressed either in glaringly orange flight dregs or white Tatooine robes that hung off him like a sack, shy but with a little snark to him.  

That was not what stepped out of the ship. 

“I listened to you rant on and on about what an irritating little kid he was, had to tell you to shut your trap,” Baze laughed boisterously as he shot his blaster in the air. They stood far away from where Skywalker was greeting the troops, off in one of the training areas where the Jedi was a small speck in the distance, “but all it took was a black uniform and a little swagger to his step and he had you looking like a nek in heat.”

That was an absolute exaggeration, Jyn thought darkly. Yes, he had certainly…grown. Her mouth had opened slightly in shock when he’d first stepped down onto the planet. He’d approached her in a confident stride with a new, cool demeanor, leather glove to hide a robotic hand, and…well, a rather form-fitting black attire. And those eyes, as intensely blue as she remembered, looking right at hers as he greeted her. “Nice to see you again, Jyn.” 

He was different. No, she admitted, he was _striking._  

He’d turned to walk down the line of soldiers, and her eyes had followed him. Bodhi had leaned over to her and told her that she best break her conspicuous gaze before everyone in the troops notices, amusement speckling his words.

But she was _not_ in _heat_. 

“He’s a good-looking boy.” She shrugged dismissively. 

She took a  glance at her teammate. He looked at her with utter disdain.

* * *

“Come over, Jyn! Come sit with us!” her commanding officer called to her as she entered the banquet hall. 

He was sitting with Skywalker. Of course he was. She looked over longingly at the table where her teammates had congregated, but the look quickly turned to a glare when Bodhi made some rather suggestive expressions.

“Shut up, you bastards,” she whispered, lifting her head as proudly as she could and sitting down at the table where Skywalker oh-so-innocently sat. She could feel irrational annoyance start to bubble up again, and she tried to fight it down. It wasn’t even his fault this time. 

Not that it really was his before…

But as those eyes rose to meet hers and that smile spread over his face, she found her fists clenching once more. 

“Commander Skywalker, I don’t know if you’ve ever met Jyn Erso–”

“I have,” he said plainly, though the look he was giving her told her that his awe had not died over the years. She wanted to look away, but she kept her head held high. _Stop that, Skywalker. I’m old news and you know it._ “We were stationed together before the Battle of Yavin.”

“Ah yes, that’s right.” Her commanding officer continued to make small talk, but Jyn found it hard to focus. Skywalker was his regular polite self, looking him in the eye and answering every question with genuine looking enthusiasm, even if she was certain he had had this exact conversation hundreds of times before. But at breaks in the conversation, he would always look her way.

She poked at her food until it was gone, and then she had nothing to preoccupy herself away from the two men with her. 

That is, until her officer piped up. “Commander Skywalker, why don’t you take our lovely Jyn for a dance?”

Jyn looked up with a start, looking more startled than she meant to. “Excuse me?”

“I’d love to.” But his expression was apologetic, and she realized that he wasn’t taking advantage of the situation–he was helping get her out. They could dance a few minutes, and then she could excuse herself. 

_Thank you,_ she thought. He smiled and stood, and suddenly she hoped he couldn’t hear her thoughts. She heard the stories of stormtroopers mindlessly following his commands with little more than a gesture. She didn’t know how the Force worked when it came to one’s mind, and something about that power seemed very dark, even from such a symbol of light. 

He held out his hand. The right one, the one with the glove. She took it awkwardly, and he lead her to the dance floor.

He began to whisper gently, “If the artificial hand makes you uncomfortable…”

“No, that’s not it at all,” she said, and she strengthened her grip on it before she realized what she was doing, “I’m not much of a dancer. _This_ kind of situation,” she waved her hand out to the prissy, laced up event that the officers had insisted on throwing, much to the disdain of the troops, “is not exactly my forte.” She glanced around the room, and felt various eyes drift towards them. The soldiers staring at him, wondering how he roped cold Jyn into a dance, and the officers at her, wondering why in the good universe her commander would have chosen the most snide, cynical woman in the room to try and entice Luke Skywalker. Sociability was not exactly her forte either. 

“Just follow my lead,” he said, and before she knew it their hands were in position and they were gliding easily over the floor. Small, simple, yet dignified steps. The kind of thing a princess sister would teach a farmboy so that he does not embarrass himself.

She looked over at her officer. He was watching them obsessively and nervously.

“You realize he’s trying to use me to charm you,” she murmured. “He wants you to stick around here more. It gives him prestige.”

“I know. And you didn’t seem to like it.”

“I don’t know what he thought he was going to accomplish. I certainly will not cooperate. And I’m not exactly charming.”

Skywalker bit his lip. “I disagree. But to each their own.”

Jyn instinctively loosened her grip. She was clearly getting to close. She still didn’t need that, and she sure didn’t want that. No matter what her team thought. He may be attractive, but he was still a…

She couldn’t bring herself, even in her mind, to say _boy_. 

“How are you doing these days, Jyn?” he asked with a tinge of hidden disappointment in his voice. She released some tension she hadn’t realized that she was holding. 

“Fine, just fine. Battered and beaten but never broken. Still a bit of a cold-hearted loner, though. Occasionally referred to as a bitch.” To her surprise, Skywalker laughed. A challenging one, like he didn’t mind that at all. “And if your worried about my…mental state, I haven’t had to see a doctor in years.”

“I…didn’t realize that you were back then,” Skywalker said, his expression growing overly sympathetic and she didn’t like it. “But I’m glad you recovered so well…”

“Of course. And you…” She quirked an eyebrow, “You’ve turned into quite the celebrity around the troops. You were a war hero before, but now everyone practically _worships_ you.” 

“People do things like that, I guess.” He shrugged with a weak, uncomfortable smile, “I’m no one to be worshiped, and I’d rather not be.” He paused, before turning her to the music. She spun with his arm, surprised at her own ability to not fall flat on her face, and she hardly even noticed when his hand slipped back around her waist. At all. “People should have worshiped you too.”

“Your modesty act is getting old, Commander.”

“So is yours.”

She was about to answer. To combat him and his quirked, questioning brow, the thing she does best. But before she opened her mouth, the music slowed and stopped. The song, and dance, was over. And as she quickly remembered, she only obligated herself to one.

_She could stay…_

“Well Commander, this is where I leave you. Goodnight,” Jyn blurted quickly. She stepped away from his arms, which hung in the air for a moment, as if questioning. As if afraid to ask. She spun around and walked definitively towards her team, before anyone, be it him, her commanding officer, her team, herself, could get any impression that she wouldn’t.

* * *

“Oh look, I’m Jyn and the Commander, dancing the night away!” Cassian shouted in a drunken slur as he grabbed another soldier by the waist and stumbled though the muddy compound with him. “So romantic! Luh–like a _dream_!”

Jyn rolled her eyes and sloppily tossed her bottle at them, more than a little gone herself. “Shut up, you kriffin’ brats. It was purely political.”

Cassian staggered over to her and slapped her on the soldier. “’Course it was, Jyn. Let me have a little fun.”

“Why must your fun be at my expense?”

_Because them and their team are the only people in the galaxy that they’d trust being this drunk, loose, and lighthearted around._ “'Cause you make it so easy, Jyn, and we have so little to do now. I have to have a hobby.”

“I hate you.”

“Uh oh,” Cassian threw his arm around her, “I’ve heard that about someone before. Don’t tell me you’ll start slow dancing with me too.”

She hit his arm with another bottle. 

* * *

Skywalker would train with his lightsaber during the day out in the compounds. There wasn’t much in terms of equipment to accommodate his choice of weapon, being the only known person alive to use it. But they made do, and he never complained. 

Jyn found herself deliberately, but not admittedly, walking past the compounds when he trained. Shuffling through her daily tasks had become even more monotonous and only left her restless.It was paperwork on new buildings, occasional excursions to smoke out some minor threats. But there was an unease around the soldiers, because as more and more time passed, the less and less they’d be needed. Jyn had come to realize that the officers were preparing for that day by making a head start on their political careers, ergo her commander’s attempted schmoozing of a certain young Jedi with potential political clout. But anyone who wasn’t highly-ranked enough or interested in becoming a political animal could only hope that wartime gave them enough skills to occupy themselves during peace. To feel like their life hadn’t ended when their prize had been won.

Jyn was no exception.

There was something hypnotizing about the way his blazing green laser blade blurred in the air as he circled, thrust, and thrashed at the targets that floated around him. He did not have all the legendary flourishes and acrobatics of the Jedi of old, but Jyn appreciated that, in a way. His style, largely self-taught, was pragmatic rather than self-glorifying. And likely just as effective if not more.

One day, Bodhi came to stand next to her as she leaned on the railing, watching Skywalker practice. 

“I wonder what it’s like to know you have a definite legacy and place in the world after the war,” Jyn mused, gesturing towards the young man in black with perhaps one of the most important futures of them all.

Bodhi chuckled darkly. Like her, he did not have the rank or interest for a career in politics that most of the officers counted on, and what little celebrity he had for getting the Death Star plans had long dried up. “Cassian will probably get a government position, being a Captain. Baze will go back to what he was before. Chirrut, the others…same. But us?” He leaned on the railing, smirking at her. “We’re free to choose. Or fall. Who knows?”

Jyn sighed and looked to the sky. “Who knows, indeed.”

…

She continued to let herself watch Skywalker practice from a distance. It was relaxing, new, and interesting. What she would not do was admit to herself that as hypnotizing as the blade’s movements were, there was also something a little hypnotizing about the way sweat dripped from that blond hair, or that face she always saw smiling darkened into a determined grimace when he pushed himself the hardest. And most certainly not the way his arms, which she swore were not like that before Yavin, stretched…

_Ridiculous_ , Jyn thought. 

* * *

Her commanding officer had accomplished one thing. Skywalker planned to stay for several weeks, to help supervise the postwar rebuilding. Jyn started seeing him around: talking to officers, eating with soldiers, walking the halls. It was in the last situation that many of their interactions began to take place. 

“How exactly did he manage to swindle you into doing that?” Jyn asked him once with a smirk when they found themselves walking the hallway in the same direction. Most of these meetings were by chance…at least, Jyn was pretty sure they were.

“He didn’t, actually,” Skywalker replied, “as much as I do want to help, I’ve also found this planet to be very strong in the Force.”

Jyn wondered what that meant. She wondered how he could tell, and how it might affect them. She didn’t ask, because part of her felt she’d never understand. Or not feel unnerved whenever it was discussed. “So…?”

“So I’d like to study it more to figure out if this would be a good planet to place my new temple on. I want to train more Jedi. Plus…” he trailed off. 

 "Plus?“ she prodded.

"Everyone here is military personnel who already know who I am. I’d like no more people to know much other than those who need to.”

Jyn let those words circle her mind. She expected this to be a galaxy wide tour of his, for him to exclaim his good name and accomplishments and decry the empire to convert those still unsure for whatever reason. He had the perfect temperament and non-threatening, pleasant appearance to be celebrity icon of the young, unstable republic. That face was practically designed for propaganda holos. Instead, he wanted to retreat from the beyond-royalty status he would enjoy in that position. There was his sister, and she was fierce and a brilliant commander, but she could also be abrasive and extreme. Leia Organa convinced you to follow her with hard-spoken words and a blaster at her side. Skywalker convinced you with a sunny smile, wide eyes, and strategic words of trust that could be even more enticing. And, as some of the rumors claimed, occasionally with a waved hand and mumbled words that scrambled your very thoughts.  Something in her still hoped that part wasn’t true.

In a sense, this was very much a loss for the Rebellion. They needed his balancing force. They needed those kind words and eyes and humble beginnings to convince the people that they’d truly be different from the Empire. 

“Why?” she asked simply. 

“The Jedi of the New Republic fell in part because they grew too intertwined with politics. They were a military force as much as a religious order, and tried to make decisions they shouldn’t have been making. We have remember our limitations…” his steps slowed, and he lowered his voice. “And so much can still go wrong with our new government. I’m not sure I trust its members not to try and make me a tool. Make me a mouthpiece for their ideas and gain.”

She knew. She had seen someone already do just that, and the war drums had just stopped beating. It was why she ended up dancing with him in the first place. 

“And Princess Leia? I assume she has Force powers? She’s not letting herself fade to obscurity.”

Skywalker bit his lip and looked ahead. It was perhaps a matter that was meant to stay between twins. “She is not as interested in honing her Force abilities. She doesn’t trust that power as much as her political ones.”

“I don’t blame her. They say Vader was a Force user, and who knows what he did to her. He and his friends were certainly not kind to me, and you saw the bloody aftermath of that,” she said, lacing her voice with sardonic jest. “At least you’re different from that bastard, from what I see.”

Skywalker paused his steps and his reply. Jyn turned to meet him, waiting for a rebuttal, for a snarky comment, for a defense. Instead, the air turned thick around them.

“Vader is a complicated case,” is all she got, before he backed away several steps towards the next hall. “Excuse me, I have to go this way,” he said in a tone she’d never heard from him. Reserved and mechanical. Like a politician. 

She watched his retreating back with an unease she couldn’t place. 

* * *

She sat in the weapons hold, surrounded by the friends that would always have her back, always protect her, always be by her side.

Blasters.

She ran her hand over the smooth metal of the weapon. It was an old gun, hardly used anymore, with dents and scratches etching out the stories of battles and losses long past. She preferred weapons like these, sometimes. They were more similar to those she could scavenge when she was wandering alone, and they knew what they were doing after so many years of use. She pointed it to the wall, aiming as if to fire but not putting her finger anywhere near the trigger.

She thought of a number of potential targets. Stormtroopers. Krennic. Vader. Anything else that had injured her body and mind. There was a long list. Almost all dead.

With a sigh, she lowered her gun. _I hope I’m as recovered as they all say,_ she thought.

“Jyn! I’m sorry, I–”

She spun to meet the intruder. It took every ounce of her will not to instinctively shoot the shadow in the corner, until she saw a familiar pair of blue eyes. 

“ _Skywalker?_ ” she snapped, shoving her gun in the holster. “What the hell are you doing here? I could have shot you, and that would sure as hell get me in a whole lot of trouble.”

“And you’d have _killed_ me, which I hope would elicit _some_ kind of reaction from you,” he laughed.

“Maybe,” she replied cooly. “So, _why_ are you here?”

“I used to do weapons supplies for the Rebellion in my early days. I still hear from some of them, and somebody mentioned some old Tattooine weapons I might be interested in. Stuff of the same make that my Uncle Owen used to use.” He walked down the hall, the moonlight casting stripes across his body as he moved. 

“Weapons? They used you for that?”

He shrugged. “Good of use as any. And I knew what I was talking about.”

“Did you?” she asked cheekily, sauntering up behind him. “Because the stories said Jedi reject the use of blasters. They’re simply _barbaric_.”

He shrugged again, throwing his hands out to the sides. “They didn’t grow up in Tattooine for nineteen years shooting carnivorous spiked womprats when they attacked the farm in packs. I guess I’m a little more used to them.”

Jyn unconsciously bit back a smile. There was something oddly attra– _amusing_ about the thought of that soft-faced boy shooting down vicious toothy threats in a wild desert. 

“Nakari said once that she got down a krayt dragon. Can’t say I’ve ever gotten that far.”

“Nakari?”

Suddenly Skywalker’s demeanor completely shifted. His shoulders slumped and his smile fell with wistful contemplation. “Just…just a friend of mine.”

“A girlfriend.” It was not a question. Just a statement. He paused, then nodded. Jyn nodded back, feeling an odd weight collect in her stomach. She’d never heard of him having feelings for anyone but Leia. But she’d been known to misread him. “So…she must miss you, with you being gone for so long.”

This time, he shook his head. “She died years ago.”

Jyn smiled sympathetically. “I-I’m sorry.” Death was not a stranger to her. But she was a stranger to comforting others, so she diffused the situation the only way she knew how. She quirked her head, leaning on a hip. “So, a Jedi who’s an illegitimate child of a Jedi who uses blasters and gets girlfriends. Just a rulebreaker all around, aren’t you? And you’re the one building the new order. Your forefathers must be rolling in their graves.” Thankfully, Skywalker let her diffuse the dark cloud.

“Hey, my parents were secretly married, so Leia and I aren’t illegitimate.”

Jyn sent him a sardonic look. “Just illegal.”

"True.” He smirked at her and leaned back on the shelf behind him. “And I can’t deny the rest.” This time, unlike so many others, she leaned forward towards him. Somehow, it felt safer in the darkness, dusty isolation, and close corners of the weapons hold. “Never a better time to rebel than a rebellion, right?”

The statement hung in the air. Jyn gripped her hands together and bit her lip. “Speaking of breaking rules, what are you doing tonight, Commander?”

* * *

She lead him to the shed in the farthest reaches of the base, long past where the highest officers would think to look. The drums could already be heard from several compounds down the path, and she could feel Skywalker’s restlessness.

“What is this?”

“They’d never have invited you before. You’re too highly ranked, and they’d think you’d squeal. But I assumed a farmboy from backdesert Tatooine is no stranger to sordid celebrations of the lower class.” Jyn shot a smile back at him. “And you can get in with me.”

“I’ve seen some parties. Biggs had some stories. But I never knew you to be much of a partier.”

“I’m not,” she sighed when they reached the door. “But I could use the free alcohol.”

Eyebrows raised on the soldiers when they saw her walk in, and higher when they saw him follow. Jyn shot them her best “don’t even ask” glare, which most quickly abided to. She marched her way to the bottles of whatever mysterious concoction they’d mixed up from stray liquors tonight and threw one back, letting the burn flow through her throat. Drums and horns were playing low, sliding notes as the soldiers, loosened and inebriated, twisted and danced, sometimes around each other.

Skywalker grabbed a drink and followed suite. She smiled wider. 

“Believe it or not, the Jedi did not have rules against this,” he told her, waving the bottle. “Not rulebreaking this time.”

She walked past him towards the dancefloor. “Shame. That’s ever so boring.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you brought him _here,_ ” Bodhi half-groaned, half -laughed. “Not the best way to impress him. He looks way too innocent to see this level of debauchery.”

“I’m not trying to _impress_ him. And he’s not, trust me.” 

Bodhi’s face lit up. “Woah, you haven’t–”

“Of course not! That’s not what I meant!” Jyn snapped, though with a quick glance his way, her face started getting a little warmer than she liked. She chugged down her bottle. “The man isn’t a child, Bodhi.”

Jyn’s own eyes widened this time. 

She’d just called him the ‘m’ word.

* * *

Women went up to him. Threw back their drunken heads laughing at some comment that probably wasn’t even that funny. Touched his arm. Stepped closer than Jyn ever had. 

She gripped her bottle tighter as she drank. Until Skywalker looked up and winked at her with a sweet, assuring look. 

She relaxed somewhat. Not that she had any reason to, of course. 

* * *

“Jyn…” Skywalker rolled his head towards her, slumped languidly on the table beside her. He circled the bottle in his hand, letting the last drops of liquid at the bottom swish. “why do you get so negative about the Force? Even now?”

Jyn rolled her eyes and nursed her own bottle. “Are you seriously asking me this now?” She gestured wildly towards crowd around them, whooping and hollering a lively familiar tune. 

“It popped into my mind, I don’t know.” She could very much tell that wasn’t true.

“It just seems unnatural to me sometimes. Look,” she slapped her hand on his chest, not taking the time to contemplate the action. “Skywalker, I know you’re a good man. But you can’t tell me I don’t have reason to think moving things with your mind or getting into _other_ people’s minds isn’t creepy. Especially what I saw Vader do, you know?”

Skywalker tensed again, looking like in a moment he’d sobered up.  And he looked to the door uneasily. “Jyn–”

“Let’s dance,” she blurted, before she even realized she had. Because she’d just imagined him leaving, and that wouldn’t do. 

She couldn’t remember feeling this lightheaded before. It felt good.

“What?”

She grabbed his gloved hand and dragged him towards the bumping crowd. “Come on, Luke!” 

Suddenly, he was very complacent. Jyn glanced about nervously as he stared at her with that stupid smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked in a whisper.

“That’s the first time you’ve actually called me Luke,” he murmured. 

Seemingly on their own will, Jyn found a grin spreading over her face, and her arms wrapping around the back of his neck. “Well then, _Luke_ , let’s start, shall we?” She could feel the eyes on her. She heard laughed and hoots of her name over the music, probably from Bodhi. But she was hardly conscious of them. Her head was foggy and her heart rapid, and she didn’t much care.

“Nice work, Farmboy,” she whispered.

She grabbed his chest and pulled him closer. He was surprised. So was she. She felt a warmth spread over her body, though perhaps it was the stifling room and the heady liquor. And maybe her pulsing heartbeat was the deep boom of those drums. But the room didn’t explain how good it felt to have his hand wrap around her waist again, nor how good he still looked with his hair sweaty and swept to the side, or how easy it was to press her hand to his hip.

Most of all, it didn’t explain how quickly she threw her arm around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him.

* * *

“You seriously don’t care about that vow of celibacy,” she said after breaking her lips from his just to press them right back into them again.

“Non-attachment,” he corrected breathily, “but effectively celibacy, I guess.”

She’d spent months calling him an immature teenager. She’d mocked his age, his experience, his attitude. But there she was, hand gripping his back and the other threaded through that golden hair,  snogging him with her back pressed to her bedroom door like a teenager herself. She ran her hand almost up to his shoulders and back down again. He had certainly grown. 

“As the only living Jedi, I decided to make an executive decision that certain old rules were not necessary.”

She laughed out loud, head against the door. “Thank you, darling.” She hummed gently, dragging her fingers up his black robes. “So dark. Not that I mind, but an interesting choice. I’ve had bad experiences with men in black, but I like you in this.”

Luke’s hands fell to hers. It was an intimate gesture. More than she was bargaining for, and she suddenly felt very nervous. 

Very quickly, as if expecting to lose his nerves, he spoke. “Jyn, Darth Vader is my father.” 

Rasping, mechanical breaths. Circulating torture machines with blood red lasers that matched the one he drew and held to her neck. Screams from friends in rooms she hadn’t even seen torture devices enter, with Vader emerging spouting information that her teammate had shakily said had somehow been ripped from his very mind. 

“That’s impossible,” she said just over a breath. She dropped her hands from his. “You father is Anakin Sky–”

“Anakin Skywalker fell to the darkside and became Vader.” Luke’s voice had a shaky undertone despite its overall determination. “He turned on the Emperor. He saved my life, and the whole galaxy. He came back to the light. Leia didn’t want anyone to know, so I haven’t told anyone, but you–”

“He tortured your sister.” Jyn shook her head slowly. She knew, of all people, there could be truth to his words. But with the memories flashing in her mind, they couldn’t register. “He cut off your hand.”

Luke brought his hand to her cheek, but she pushed it away. Wide eyed, he stepped back, looking like a hurt child. Guilt spread through her, but she felt frozen. Because something like him came out of something like that. 

“Are you telling me your abilities are the same as whatever he did to my team?” Her voice cracked. She knew she sounded like she was begging. She was, in a way. For so many people, he was still their greatest hope, but if his powers were the same cursed, dark magic that Vader had, then maybe she was right all along not to trust them.

“Yes–no–I mean–” he sighed, and ran a hand though his hair. “The Force can be used in Light and Darkness. You of all people know what it’s like to look for redemption, Jyn.” 

She studied that face. That pleading face.

“Please, Jyn. I know you went through horrible–”

“You’re right, Skywalker,” she said quietly, “Please know that I know you’re right. But like I told you, I’m screwed up.” She almost lifted her hand to touch his shoulder, but stopped, and redirected it to her own forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Jyn!”

Before she could look back, she turned and left him in the hallway, walking quickly with her guilt filling her every being. 


End file.
